


waking up to ash and dust

by Adri_James



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Hydra (Marvel), Loki's not taking anything well, Psychological Torture, References to Depression, Torture, Whump, and I love hurting him, don't mind me, just self-indulging, torturing Loki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-07-15 14:15:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7225720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adri_James/pseuds/Adri_James
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki didn't expect to wake up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	waking up to ash and dust

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on  Tumblr 

It would seem death had eluded him once more. Loki felt its grasp slip away as soon as he let go, the tendrils of his own magic pulling him back. How cruel. It sought to keep him alive even when he no longer wished it.

The open wound through his chest still oozed blood, shooting jolts of pain up his spine with each gasp of breath he took. Loki could feel it. His powers healing the wound rapidly without his want, his _need_. He did not want this. He was not worthy to be spared. So why? Why was his body insisting the fight was not yet over? Thor had given his blessing. Had forgiven him. Loki was to die nobly as his brother wanted, cast out and forgotten as Odin wanted, soon joining his _mother_ \--

Loki bites back his tears, fists clenching. In the end he was to be denied even _her_.

He could no longer sense Thor or the woman’s presence. How they had escaped he was uncertain but it mattered not. Loki knew he could not stay here. If he was to survive then he needed to move, needed to form a plan.

Depending on the aftermath of Thor’s battle, Malekith could return. And if Odin were to send out guards to search for them he did not wish to be found. Nor did he care to return to Asgard. Without her there—no. It was no longer his home.

_It never was_ , a voice chides in the back of his head.

Loki rolls to his stomach with some effort, attempting to push himself up, only capable of holding his weight on his arms. Breathless. Hurting. _Weak_. He could not will himself to his feet. Not yet. Loki reaches for his magic, whisking himself away somewhere he could heal, someplace safe…

He needed to survive. That’s what his magic was urging him to do, insisting that’s what he was.

_A survivor_.

*

Loki woke with an ache in his bones and the less than pleasant smell of blood. He found himself in a cave, curious but not disconcerting. The wound in his chest had finally closed, the flesh tender and scarred over, but still healing. Loki could feel the dried blood and dirt caked to his back and chest, wishing desperately for a means to wash.

But he could not find the will to move.

It was different—from when he fell into the void. He had wished for death then, if only to free him from the nothingness, but something inside him willed him on. Forced his body to survive. So Loki held on. A part of him, he recalled, clinging to the thought of Thor.

This time he clung to nothing. What did this world have left to offer him? Loki the trickster, the liar, _the traitor_. What will did he have left? What purpose?

_You truly have nothing_ , Loki thought bitterly. _What a worthless, pathetic creature you are, hiding in this dark hole, still hoping for death to find you…_

It would only be a matter of time. Someone—or some _thing_ —would find him. Steal him. Break him. As they had before. Whether it be the Chitauri or Asgard or the inhabitants of whatever realm he was on, Loki contemplated which he would prefer.

Would it be swift death?

_No. They would draw it out, long and slow like you deserve. Wringing out every last cry and scream in your lungs before granting the last blow--_

_If they even killed you. What if they kept you alive?_

What if Thor discovered him? Would he feel betrayed? Disheartened? Would he even be surprised?

Loki was numb to the thought. He no longer cared for Asgard. Abandoned, forgotten, the unwanted son. Upon his return he would be stuffed in yet another gilded cage, deep and dark below the ground for Odin to forget the shame he brought him. Thor might speak nobly of him in death, but those words would change once revealed that his death was yet another lie.

Twice now Thor thought him dead. Twice now he has mourned. _He will not fall for it a third_.

Then why? Why was he here?

Was he cursed to wander? To suffer? To feel the pain and sorrow and humiliation he had inflicted upon others?

_You mean what you deserve?_

Loki would not argue his innocence. He knew what he was. The monster, the creature that walked in his skin. _Murderer_. His nails dug into the palms of his hands, tears stinging the back of his throat. She was dead. She was dead and it was his fault, all his fault. He could’ve saved her. If he had not cared so much for Asgard’s destruction, if he had not spoken to the monster in the prison, told him the way, she could’ve been spared…

Her magic no longer called to him, sung to him, reached out for his own. Even in the void he had felt her calling to him, seeking him out. He hadn’t listened then. Didn’t care for kindness. After the fall he was given purpose. Pushed beyond the brink of insanity and pulled back just enough to carry out his task. Filled with rage and hatred, given power he could only _dream_ of.

_I can free you_.

Loki felt sick. The voices were clawing their way back inside his head. He was alive but at what cost? What purpose was he to serve? He no longer had one. He couldn’t feel anything anymore. This wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted to die in the void. He wanted to die on Svartalfheim.

*

The Chitauri found him first.

Loki knew once he slipped between the realms that his presence would not go unnoticed for long. But it was as though they never believed him dead.

At first he was able to avoid them, slipping realm to realm through his secret paths, one step ahead. This only lasted but a few days. They cut him off, Loki slaying them in numbers and whisking himself away. But they followed.

He held them off but their numbers seemingly increased the harder Loki fought.

_Clever, really, that they should not underestimate you_.

Loki would not allow himself to be overcome. He took beating after beating, his bones shattered and flesh torn, far from being taken. Their beasts hunted him, Loki able to just hold back a scream when its claws sunk into his flesh, Loki fighting back, somehow— _somehow_ \--

He fell, slipping in and out of several realms, giving them something to track, something to search for, knowing he could not keep this up much longer. Loki spread traces of him out for them to find, slipping out of consciousness for only a moment, forcing himself into a realm he did not sense them. Blood seeped into his leathers, ran down his back and through his armor, exhaustion overtaking him, Loki collapsing in a heap, unable to even flinch from the pain.

*

Loki woke, stomach lurching, forcing himself to roll to his side and retch. It hurt to move at all, his magic healing him but slowly.

But something was—different. Off, somehow. The light pouring in seemed artificial. He pushes himself up, the floor beneath him a smooth stone. There was glass rather than walls, the lights meant to disorient him. This was not where he had fallen. Someone had moved him. _Touched_ him. Put him in _a cage_. A mediocre one at that. It reminded him of the one meant for the green beast, the one on the flying vessel when he battled Thor and his friends, his—Avengers.

This cell would not contain him for long but Loki could not muster the strength to travel. Nor did he wish to chance the Chitauri awaiting him in whatever realm he chose.

No. This was not ideal but it was not them either.

“You are awake.”

Loki hisses, straining to look at his captor through the blinding white light, but was only able to make out a shadow. A man, from the voice. Midgardian. So that was where he’d ended up. Another curiosity.

“I apologize but—we know enough about your structure to know that these lights would provide a sort of…safety cushion for ourselves.” The man pauses, Loki not caring enough to fake interest. “Heat lamps. Your normal heat signature runs rather cold. We made the assumption heat would be an issue for you.”

_Clever_ , Loki thought bitterly. But it wasn’t clever enough to contain him for long. The man, he realized, spoke with an accent. A different dialect than many of the Midgardians he’d been in contact with before.

“How nice of you to land just outside one of our many facilities. And how lucky we were to be the ones to discover you.” There were more of them. Armed. Loki could sense them just beyond the glass. It was difficult to tell just how many, his magic was—focused. “I realize we have little time before you are capable of finding a means of escape, but I have a proposition for you, perhaps you will hear me out?”

Mockery. Loki did not care for this man’s familiar tone. But nonetheless it was amusing, seeing as this little bug believed himself a threat. Loki had dealt with far worse than whatever was in store for him here. He could bide his time, tease them if he cared to, since the moment his strength returned he could slay them all and continue his trek.

“I don’t make deals with mortals.”

The man shrugs, pacing in front of the cage. “No matter. I won’t take up too much more of your time. You see, Mr. –ah. Forgive me--”

“Laufeyson,” Loki said, his lips curling.

“Mr. Laufeyson. You are an oddity to us. One that I’m afraid the mortal man cannot resist.”

“You flatter me.”

“Yes, well, all flattery aside, I must confess that your body holds secrets that we as a species desire ourselves. Power. Strength. Immortality. All things we as mortals crave. Life is short, after all.” Loki narrows his eyes. He knew where this was going. His scars gave out a dull ache. “All we ask is for you to allow us to conduct our experiments. And—in return—we shall grant you your freedom and perhaps restore something you have lost? While keeping the process as—painless as possible. For all of us.”

Lies were dripping through every word spoken, Loki lowering his head to let out a ragged breath. Humans were all the same, it would seem, seeking power they could not imagine, wanting a lifespan their intellect could not comprehend. And not for the means of bettering humanity, no, but to destroy one another…as beasts often did.

Loki ponders the man’s ‘ _something you have lost_ ’ and briefly his mind flickers to Frigga but disregards it, knowing his state of mind untrustworthy at the moment. This mortal had nothing to offer. Merely empty words and the amusing underlying threat of _do what I say or else_.

“This is not a proposition,” Loki sighs, propping himself up against the closest wall. “I know how you dull little creatures work.”

The man changed his tone to one of faint surprise, “Oh?” he said, but Loki could hear the underlying indifference of it.

“It would not matter if I agreed. You have made your decision to break me open, dig around as though I am a treasure for you to discover, not realizing how weak-minded your species is. You are unable to comprehend what it is that I am.”

“And what _are you_ , Mr. Laufeyson?” The man sounded amused, Loki’s temper flaring.

“A god. Something of a higher power, a higher species, something you are unable to match in power or strength which is why you seek your answers from me. But who is to say you will not find only more questions? How do you believe yourself capable of containing power such as mine when you can barely contain power discovered by your own hand?”

Silence. Loki grips at the bloody shreds of his clothing, arm shaking at the audacity of a mortal man to question him.

“You speak as though I am capable of granting you immortality,” Loki barks out a sharp laugh. “What would you do with it? Spend another few thousand centuries digging around in the mud? Insignificant _filth_! You have nothing to offer me… Only the empty promises of your eminent demise. Now release me! Or I will take pleasure in wrapping my hands around your throat and snapping your neck.”

The man folds his arms behind his back, considering Loki’s threat. He turns on his heel to leave him but not before adding, “Process him.”

A door opens to the side of the cage, several more men in dark armored uniform entering. Loki snarls and pushes himself upright, the first group of men attempting to hold him down as several more entered. The pain, the grinding of bone on bone, the feeling of his wounds splitting open and gushing fresh blood was nearly unbearable, Loki containing the need to howl as he plunges a knife into an opening of one man’s armor, taking pride in his screams.

He lashes out at the lot of them, knives jutting out of armor and flesh, Loki unaware of the opening he’d left for one to slip in and jab him in the neck with a syringe. Loki grabs for the man, bashing his head against the wall and moving for the door, no longer caring for his pain or his body’s cries of exhaustion. The room began to sway. Loki realized, in horror, that they could very well have assessed him already in his earlier state of unconsciousness. Enough so to find a means of hindering him, of incapacitating him in some way. They had already moved him, they could have--

Loki touches his neck where the man had pricked him with the syringe, the world blurring in and out of existence. He could not call upon a means of pulling himself away, he was too exhausted, too—too _weak_ \--

The fallen men behind him groaned, a few still twitching on the ground, Loki smiling wickedly as he collapsed onto the floor. At least he had taken a good handful of them with him. The man he had spoken with stepped through the now open door, looming over him as others came in to drag Loki away.

*

“Awake again.”

Loki blinks at the light, recognizing the cool steel of a metal table beneath his back. The man from before hovered over him, Loki able to put a face to his voice, his thin, chiding smile stirring a fire in Loki’s belly.

“I apologize but I neglected to tell you my name. I am Baron Strucker, head operator of this facility.”

It was a name Loki vaguely recognized. He was Hydra, that much had been revealed to him. They all wore they rather tacky emblem on their armor and uniforms. An organization Loki would not be familiar with had it not been for Agent Barton recruiting many of their men to assist him during his attack in New York. Men of science, Loki recalled, showing great interest in both himself and the Tesseract. Familiar, in fact, with the Tesseract itself.

Nevertheless, Loki was not familiar enough with Hydra to have extended knowledge of their hierarchy. But Strucker was not a name he had cared to have remembered.

“But not head of the operation,” Loki shoots back at him, Strucker frowning. “Otherwise why waste your time conversing with me?”

He struck a nerve, Strucker flinching but only minutely. “Still have your bite, I see.”

“You can remove a wolf’s head and it still has the power to bite.”

“Yes, well,” Strucker said, his smile dryer than before. “We shall be testing that theory.” His eyes scan over Loki’s form, Loki wanting nothing more than to gouge them out with his thumbs for even daring to lay his eyes upon him. “It would seem you’ve been having quite the adventure, Mr. Laufeyson. I don’t believe I’ve ever met a man capable of killing three highly trained soldiers while as injured as you are. Your flesh is nearly stripped to the bone.”

“I am no man,” Loki snaps back with a hiss. He pauses, hands unconsciously shifting. “And I killed four of your men.”

Strucker’s stride falters, looking down at Loki with sullen distaste. _That’s it_ , Loki thought, Strucker continuing his way around to the other side of the table. _Calculate your movements. You know I’ll find a way to free myself. And then your death will be child’s play…_

“Tell me, are you still so certain we are unable to learn the things we desire from you?”

Loki laughs, a little breathless. “You act as though this is my first time being a subject of study.”

It did not warrant the reaction Loki wanted, Strucker merely waving him off. He motions for others to enter the room, several wearing white masks and protective eyewear, Loki’s stomach twisting at the thought of their hands on him, inside him, digging for their primitive answers.

“We’ll speak again, Mr. Laufeyson.”

*

The initial cut was nothing, their instruments feeling like thin metal skimming across his skin. He watched in displeasure as blood arose from the line, pouring over the mark in a deep red fountain. When the pain did come Loki gritted his teeth through it, skin peeled back to reveal muscle underneath, Loki hissing small discomforts through his teeth as they collected their samples, peeling back muscle to reveal bone (though he was certain his ribs were still shattered). They pieced him back together and allowed the flesh to heal.

It started as that—as simple tests.

They broke the bones in his fingers, cut deep gouges in his veins, sliced away pieces of skin—all slowly, separately, giving him time to heal, to regenerate. So primitive and concise, as if fearing they would hurt him.

_Fearing to lose you, more like_ , his thoughts reminded him. _Can’t afford to kill their prize_.

When Loki lashed out, sending flames or snakes or images to haunt their dreams, they sent electricity through his body, muscles shuddering with the jolts and Loki doing everything in his power not to scream.

“What are we to learn,” one man mumbled under his breath. “His anatomy is that of any other human.”

Loki sent a curse to him, the man crying out and tearing off his goggles and mask, clawing deep gouges into his face and screaming of an unknown entity, two of them carrying him out of the room. The rest turned up the voltage of their machine, the bursts of electricity coursing through him like Mjolnir’s lightening, eliciting his first scream.

He did not know how long it had been. Days, perhaps? Maybe weeks… But they seemed—satisfied with what Loki could only assume was an initiation.

They cut him open deeper, more jagged, no longer with care. They poked and prodded at open muscle and tissue until they found a nerve, Loki giving an involuntary twitch, digging their instruments into the spot until he was howling. 

A machine was brought in, a mask placed over his mouth and nose as Loki struggled. It made an awful noise when turned on, like metal grating against itself. He held his breath as long as he could, the machine sucking the air from his lungs, pulling, pulling until he felt dizzy, his eyes feeling as though they would burst from his skull. The world became spotted with white and his lungs burned for air until it all slipped from him.

He woke, gagging and coughing, a thick line of drool running from the corner of his mouth. His head felt as though it could explode, ears ringing like a struck bell. Loki cursed them under his breath. They recorded how long he had been unconscious, impressed with the results.  
More of them filed in, turning his head to expose his neck, Loki shouting curses and hexes at them as they forced him still, a needle piercing his skin.

“NO!” Loki screamed, power bursting from him and throwing many of them back. They shouted, calling for others to pin him down. “No, you cannot have my blood! Filthy, disgusting, _repulsive_ creatures! _I’ll kill you!_ I’LL KILL ALL OF YOU, DO NOT TOUCH ME--”

The electricity was coursed into him, the power raised gradually until Loki was howling, begging for them to stop. He screamed until his throat bled. And they watched in awe that he was still alive. When it ended Loki let out a sob, coughing up the blood from his torn throat and lungs, barely twitching when the needle pierced his skin once more. They laughed, marveled at how defeated he was, how _weak_.

_They should have killed me_.

A saw was brought it. Loki jerked as the blade came near, it’s electric whirring raising panic in his chest. It sliced through his arm, through bone and flesh, Loki screaming through it. They couldn’t do this to him, they couldn’t-- _he was not weak_. The limb was left by his side, his magic slowly reattaching it, Loki wailing in agony throughout. _It does not work like that_ , he wanted to tell them, wanted to chastise. _I need a healer for such a task, I need…_ He thought of Frigga.

His wails turned to sobs.

It was nothing. It was still nothing. Nothing compared to what he’d endured. Nothing like the void. Nothing like the Chitauri…

“Good, very good,” Strucker said, voice nothing more than a whisper in Loki’s ears. He was never there during. Never there when Loki was screaming and shuddering in agony. He only came after, to mock, to chastise. Acting as though he were the one inflicting pain when he was nothing more than a coward, taking credit for his underlings work. “You heal at an exceptional rate. Surprising, considering the damage we seem to be inflicting.”

Loki chokes out a wet and raspy laugh, Strucker stopping his infernal circling. Nonetheless he keeps going, Loki giving up on watching him, closing his eyes to focus on breathing, on healing, urging his magic to restore.

_It wouldn’t be long now…_

“Do most Asgardians heal at such a rate? Does your brother, the Thunderer?”

Loki said nothing. The other men were prodding his reattached limb and seemed pleased with the results. His eyes snap open to watch Strucker pacing, noting the smug smirk he gives him, knowing well he’d plucked a nerve, but not knowing the consequences it held. The doctors, however, stepped away.

“I wonder if he would prove as interesting a subject as yourself. How I marvel at the thought of overpowering not one—but two gods. Perhaps with your help, that would be a possibility, yes?”

“You dare speak to me of Thor,” Loki sneers, ice in his tone. Strucker stops and steps back, not fool enough to ignore the heir of dread Loki was pushing upon him. “Do as you will to me, you putrid little man, but if I am to discover a hand that is not my own laying harm upon Odinson in the manner you have touched me, their death shall be a THOUSAND TIMES OVER WHAT I HAVE IN STORE FOR YOU.”

Glass shattered throughout the room, doctors screaming and clambering away, a burst of green flames and sparks shooting out of Loki’s fingertips as Strucker stumbled back onto the floor, kicking his legs as the flames turned to snakes, writhing about on the ground and hissing Loki’s displeasure, fading away into mist. 

Loki collapses on the table, shuddering with every breath, Strucker saying nothing more as he flees from the room, pride between his legs. _No…no it wouldn’t be long now…_

*

“What is it you dream of?” Strucker asked, Loki sneering at him. “What do gods dream of, I wonder? You live such terribly long lives, would your dreams be pleasant? No…” The heels of Strucker’s boots click on the floor as he paces around Loki. “Yours are not. You wail in your sleep…like a babe.”

“I would be careful,” Loki growls under his breath. “My memory is sharp. I’ll remember that.”

Strucker smiles dryly, his eyebrows raised. There’s a sharp cry elsewhere and the faint whir of machinery, followed by more screams. Loki couldn’t turn his head but his eyes darted towards the sound. Strucker lets out a faint chuckle.

“Mustn’t mind that. You’re not our only subject after all.”

“I assumed as much.”

He seems faintly amused at that. Strucker motions for the men lingering in the door, the wheels of a table scraping along the stone floor.

“We’re going to try something—new, today, Mr. Laufeyson.” Loki doesn’t answer, merely adjusts his gaze to the devices being brought closer to his table, the men muttering to themselves. “You see, you’re not the only magical artifact we’ve recovered as of recent.”

_Artifact_. Loki ignores it. The small machine activates, glowing an eerie blue, and Loki feels an uncomfortable wave of dread settle over him. It felt…familiar. The aftertaste of the machine’s power tingles on his tongue, Loki’s skin starting to crawl. Not altogether unpleasant, making him crave more of it, Loki’s magic reaching out-- He closes his eyes.

“Since New York, more and more people have become interested in the limitations of such power. Unfortunately such power holds secrets our science has yet to uncover.”

“I know as much,” Loki mocks, masking the discomfort in his voice.

“Yes,” Strucker said, a wicked smile playing at his lips. “However, your limitations have become clear.” Loki felt himself tense, allowing his fists to uncurl. “You are unable to run in this physical state. Otherwise, why else would you allow us to make you our newest exhibit?”

Loki hisses out a sound, frustrated. _To see what you would do_. But he was not wrong. Loki was exhausting himself, he thought of nothing but his own survival. He was biding his time. Waiting for the opportune moment…

“Your silence speaks for itself, you know,” Strucker says with a laugh, Loki gritting his teeth and imagining his hands curling around his throat. “We have tested your physical being. Shall we move on to test your mental limitations as well?”

“Heh,” Loki curls his lips over his teeth into a feral smile. “You don’t want to be trapped inside my head.”

The men move to place a strap over Loki’s neck, Strucker laughing at him once more. Another strap is fitted over the top of Loki’s skull, alarm building in his chest, his arms shifting against their metal restraints. The other half of the device comes closer, glowing an unsettling blue at the tip. Loki jolts himself, trying not to panic, despite the alarms ringing in his head. He could smell the power from the machine, its odor tempting his senses to give in, to allow himself to give up control.

“You misunderstood, Mr. Laufeyson. You shall be trapped inside your _own_ mind.”

_No, don’t--_ He tries to call out, the device barely touching him between both eyes. Strucker’s laughter echoing as Loki listens to the whir of the machine, feels its power reach out for him, tugging at the insides of his mind. Loki couldn’t give in, he couldn’t-- It would not have him. Not like this. He felt himself lunge, felt the bonds of him imprisonment give way but he slipped, nothingness creeping in from the edges of existence and swallowing him.

He dreamt of the void. He dreamt of the darkness. The weightlessness. The feeling of nothing. And then it was pain. Agony. Fingers delving inside his mind, picking and pulling apart, seeking answers and secrets, seeking to un-do him…

He could still feel their hands on him. Disgusting rats tainting him with their touch. Tearing open his bones and flesh, seeking what, Loki did not know. He’d cried. He’d screamed. He’d howled until it hurt to even breathe. He’d clawed into his wrists, his neck, desperate for it to stop.

_If I told you I could free you from this, what would you do?_

_Anything._

At that time…he’d thought someone would come. Still thought himself worthy of being saved.

_Is that what you’re waiting on now_ , a voice said. _To be saved?_

“No…” Loki whispers to the darkness. “I do not want it…”

_Were you ever?_

Loki closes his eyes, the tendrils of whatever magic was invading his mind wrapping around him and pulling him down. His mind drifted to Thor.

If Thor discovered him now, would he pity him? Filthy, miserable wretch that he was, broken beyond repair, allowing these mortals to lay their hands on him. Or would his anger overtake him? Would he feel betrayed? If he had found him in the void, would he have thought him weak?

Every minute shift broke open the wounds on his back, Loki biting back a sob as fresh blood poured out of them. He had to heal, had to gain back what little dignity he had before fighting them off again, before escaping… If he was to die— _allowed death_ —it would not be by mortal hands. 

Loki thought of Frigga. Thought of the healing she had taught him, though, he knew very little. He channels his energy into that, into closing his wounds, healing what was broken before he had to run once more.

Strucker’s laughter was still ringing in his ears.

He dared not think of what awaited him if he were unable to escape. These mortals had little care for him to stay alive anymore. They could very well preserve his body for future studies, the samples they had taken would more than suffice for what they wished to learn.

The magic pulsated in his mind, seeking to undo him. Loki would not allow it such gratification.

He dreamt of Thor…

_…Loki lays limply, bloody and broken, as he’s dragged through the court of Asgard, Thor throwing him before the Allfather. Loki keeps still, unwilling to face Odin in this pathetic state._

_“The traitor lives,” Thor says, voice hard and cold. Whispers break out over the courtroom, Loki’s pride slipping through his fingers. “And I believed him dead. I am at fault for falling for his tricks, Allfather.”_

_“No, my son,” Loki twitches at the words, Odin’s eye upon him. “The fault is his own.”_

_“I have been a fool, father…but I know now it is too dangerous to keep him alive any longer…”_

_“No!” Loki cries out. He searches the court, looks for someone, anyone, to spare him. Frantically, Loki turns to look upon Odin’s side—but she was no longer there. Loki strains to look to Odin, his father glowering down at him. He turns his head in shame._

_“Do as you will, my son.”_

_Thor pulls him to his knees, Loki’s breathing heavy and ragged. He looks up to his brother, his chest heaving, eyes meeting his. But the gaze held nothing for him anymore. There’s a smell of electricity, Loki’s hair standing on end. Thor hefts Mjolnir--_

_“No,” Loki begs, clutching at his brother’s arm. “No, Thor, please…”_

_“Do not touch me. You are no longer my brother. You never were.”_

_Mjolnir swings down, he closes his eyes…_

Loki could feel the cold sweat on his body, Thor’s dead eyes burning in his skull. He couldn’t catch his breath. Panic still swelled in his chest. He could feel the welts in his hands where his nails had dug into his palms. Had he been screaming? Did they know? Did they hear how weak he truly was? Their faces were watching him, Loki’s head lolling to the side. Tears dried on his face, heart pounding in his chest as exhaustion claimed him, the magic dragging him back down, back into…

_Germany. Loki watches, a form of himself stepping towards the fearful onlookers, glittering in his armor and leathers. But it—it did not look like himself. It wasn’t him. The face was distorted, it’s smile too wide, too sharp to be his own. It was a monster._

_The creature orders the people to their knees. But the old man. The old man still stood, defiant, unwavering. The monster raises its head to him, smile widening. Loki could feel his pulse racing. What would it do?_

_“There are no men like me,” the monster spoke, its voice as strangled and distorted as its face._

_“There are always men like you.”_

_It barks out a laugh, Loki’s blood running cold at the sound. The monster raises the scepter and Loki closes his eyes—but nothing. No screams, no shouting, no Avengers swooping in at the last minute. He opens them, Thor standing where the old man stood, watching him._

_“Do you truly believe yourself above them?”_

_Loki looks down at the people kneeled around him, watching him as he steps towards Thor. He swallows thickly and lets out a shallow laugh. “Yes.”_

_Thor grasps the back of his neck, gently, thumb rubbing in small circles. “This is not you, Loki.”_

_He looks to the monster, snarling and grinning from where it watched them, Loki’s stomach lurching. It had his face. No longer a beast, but himself, grinning and laughing, eyes wide with something on the border of insanity._

_Loki smiles dryly. “But it is.”_

_“No,” Thor shook his head. “It is not. It is not the Loki I know. It is not my brother, not you--”_

_“And you would know who I am,” Loki says darkly. His own voice sounded weak._

_“I know you are not this.”_

_Loki laughs, tears brimming in his eyes. “You claim to know me, Thor. It does not mean I am not the monster you see before you.”_

_“I only see you--”_

_“Then you are a fool!” Loki snaps, Thor’s expression unwavering. “This is what I am, this is always what I was! A monster, a creature, seeking fear and destruction and a people to rule. I am not your brother and I am not of Asgard, I am a beast cursed to wander and fight! Plagued by lies and tricks! No matter how pretty your words may seem, I do not want you to save me, Thor. I am beyond your saving!”_

_Thor stares at him for a moment, Loki’s breathing heavy. He smiles at him. Loki lashes out, digging his knife into Thor’s gut, but he doesn’t even flinch. He takes Loki’s wrist and pulls his hand away from the knife, holding it gently._

_“I do not believe that, Loki. I believe you have been hurt, that I have hurt you…”_

_Loki’s chest clenches at the words. “Stop--”_

_“…and I believe that you have created a version of yourself to push others away. To claim yourself the villain. To have people perceive you as the monster you believe you are…”_

_Loki shakes his head, clamping his hands over his ears. “No!”_

_“…because the old man was right. No matter how hard you try to be this thing it is nothing people have not faced before. It is not you. And that scares you. Because if you are not this monster you claim to be then what are you?”_

_“Stop it!”_

_“But I will not give up on you, Loki. I love you--”_

_“LEAVE ME ALONE!”_

_Thor said nothing else. His hand disappeared from where it held his neck. Loki trembled where he stood, eyes closed, teeth bared and fists balled tightly by his sides. When nothing else is said Loki opens his eyes and Frigga stood there, holding his jaw in her hands, smiling weakly. “Always so perceptive…about everyone but yourself. Are you really so proud that you do not believe you can be saved?”_

_Loki reaches out for her. The beast was closing in behind her. Frigga smiles at him, Loki attempting to cry out, the heavy blade swinging down and severing her in half. Loki heard himself scream, tried to grab her hand…_

…but he awoke.

He could still feel Thor’s blood on his hands, his mother’s touch--

Strucker’s laughter.

_No. No, you will not mock me. I am a god. You are beneath me_.

His magic pulled away from the invading force to call out to him. It was time. Loki felt the pulse of electric shocks attempting to subdue him. He heard them shouting as Loki lifted himself off the table, blindly throwing knives and curses their way, the foreign magic still calling to him, drawing him in. Loki blocked it out. He cast his arm towards the device still glowing a faint blue from its source of power, throwing the machine to the floor and watching it shatter.

Loki set aflame to the papers, the charts, any diagrams and diagnosis they’d made of him. He shattered whatever glass sat in the vicinity, anything containing a piece of himself he sought out to destroy it. Bodies littered the floor, Loki stepping over them, the world in front of him only a blur of color. He could hear their guns but their bullets felt like nothing, Loki throwing attacks in the directions they came from.

Strucker’s voice broke through his daze, calling orders to his men as he made for the door, Loki throwing a smile his way. He would be back. Blood was still pouring down his back and torso, his one arm beginning to feel numb, still healing the nerves and muscles within. Loki held the men off long enough to summon his leathers, to find a place they would not follow--

His stomach heaved with the urge to be sick as Loki flung himself through space and landed with little grace on hard marble floor, the breath feeling as though it had been punched from his lungs. But the screaming had ceased, head still pounding, pushing out the invading magic.

He would not be beaten. He was not _weak_.


End file.
